Why cover the same ground again? ... It goes against my grain to repeat a tale told once, and told so clearly.

Thou shalt not take moochers into thy hut?

So it is that the gods do not give all men gifts of grace - neither good looks nor intelligence nor eloquence.

[I]t is the wine that leads me on, the wild wine that sets the wisest man to sing at the top of his lungs, laugh like a fool – it drives the man to dancing... it even tempts him to blurt out stories better never told.

Be still my heart; thou hast known worse than this.

A generation of men is like a generation of leaves; the wind scatters some leaves upon the ground, while others the burgeoning wood brings forth - and the season of spring comes on. So of men one generation springs forth and another ceases.

Whatever day Makes man a slave, takes half his worth away.